What about the cork? Have you ever gotten to the bottom of a bottle of wine among friends, and toss the bottle, only to discover at the end of the evening that he cork is still sitting somewhere to be found later?
Sometimes it is sitting lonely on the corkscrew on a forgotten corner of the counter in the kitchen, and other times it is rolling free among the wine glasses on the table, trying to blend in with the table cloth.
Having a fondness for a good bottle of red wine now and then, and good company, even though a bottle eventually gets empty, I find myself saving the cork. It started out as a simple way to remind us of what wine we needed to try to find again and later it evolved into some sort of bizarre collection like a hunter needing a reminder of some past kill.
There is something entirely acceptable and aesthetic about a pile of corks sitting on a window sill, or piled deep in a colored glass container. One end impaled and protruding like a punctured fruit and the other stained crimson. Let’s not forget the writing along the side, which often defines the country it was imported from, and the winery.
A gathering of corks on my kitchen window sill during the bitter winter of the holiday season past somehow seems warm and inviting, and stands as a reminder of all the guests who came to visit and share their story.
So what about the cork? I think the cork is more than just a utilitarian functional portion of fluid packaging. A cork can often be hidden from view for years preserving the wine, and it can endure years, decades and sometimes centuries. Each one tells its own story of its journey over the years to a final celebration in good company when it is once again revealed.